Italian Summer

Chapter Three

THE DRIVE BACK TO ROME was over five hours long, and because of this, I was glad that we had already booked a hotel for the night. Both Francesco and Isabella seemed too tired to drive such a long ways, and I couldn't legally drive in Italy because I hadn't taken the Italian drivers test. Even as we climbed in the car for our 30-minute drive to our hotel, though, half an hour sounded more like half an eternity, and I wasn't sure how I would have made it the whole 5.5 hours had we decided to drive straight home.
     By the time my sister finally put her foot to the pedal and we started to pull out of the parking lot, it was well past 11:00Pm. I was a night-owl, so that was hardly late, but getting up early that morning had taken its toll as well. Still, while my body felt tired, my mind was wide awake, and as my thoughts swarmed around in my head, I could hardly keep from sharing my overflowing excitement with the two others in the car who, unfortunately, had to listen to me.
     "So, do we really get to meet them?" I asked excitedly when we were about 10 minutes down the road. It was the third time I had asked that question, but no matter how many times Isabella and Francesco assured me it was true, I couldn't grasp it. An average American girl eating breakfast with the most popular Italian band didn't seem likely.
     "For the third and hopefully final time, yes, you're going to get to meet them," Isabella replied, glancing at me and rolling her eyes. "That is, if you don't die from a heart attack first."
     I gave a half-hearted laugh. "I'm not gonna have a heart attack," I replied. "I'm not that excited."
     "Who are you excited to meet most?" Francesco asked from the backseat.
     "All of-" I started, but Isabella cut me off.
    "Ah, yes, surely you have a favorite," she said, grinning. "Piero, maybe?"
     "It's not Piero," I replied, and instantly, I noticed my mistake.
     "That indicates that you do have a favorite, then," Francesco pointed out.
     "What I mean is, I don't have a favorite, period," I corrected, but my blushing cheeks did nothing to back up my statement. What I had said was true- I really didn't have a favorite member. But I couldn't deny that they were all very handsome, and with Isabella and Francesco teasing me as they were, I feared it wouldn't take any more than a little bit of attention from one of the boys to change my stance on the matter.
     "I'd like to see how you feel after you meet them," Francesco replied, glancing down at his phone.
     "I can't wait for you and Piero to meet," Isabella said after a brief moment of silence. She was grinning from ear to ear- the type of grin she always got when she was plotting something. She had been teasing me about Piero for two weeks already, and it had already became irritating after the first two days. I feared how much her teasing would increase when I actually met him.
     Though she couldn't see the gesture in the dark car, I rolled my eyes, but it was my heavy sigh that cued her in on my disdain. She let out a soft laugh.
      "You'll see what I'm talking about once you meet him," Isabella assured. "You guys are gonna get along great."
"Sure," I muttered sarcastically.

*THIRD-PERSON POINT OF VIEW*

An hour after the show had ended, the boys of Il Volo had already returned to their hotel and settled in for the night. In their own separate rooms, each of them had showered off the sticky sweat that came from dancing around the stage for two hours and changed out of their semi-matching clothes, opting for something more comfortable.
By the time Piero got out of the shower, it was late. Typically, he could run through the shower in just a couple of minutes, but on nights like tonight, he often stood beneath the stream of warm water for much longer, contemplating life and sorting through his thoughts. He was thinking deeply about his future when he heard his phone ring and, snapping away from his thoughts, he shut off the water and stepped out of the shower.
Hitting "answer" and turning the call on speakerphone, Piero grabbed a towel off the rack and started to dry off. "Ciao," he greeted.
"Ciao, Piero," said the person on the other end of the phone. Immediately, Piero recognized the voice as his brothers, and he let out a chuckle.
"Hey, man, how are you?" Piero asked in quick Italian.
"Eh, I can't complain. I know you're busy, but I just wanted to ask if we were still on for tomorrow," Francesco said. Piero could hear talking in the background, and he wondered who it was coming from.
"Uhhh..." Piero responded, stalling the conversation as he tried to think of what Francesco was talking about. He didn't remember having plans with him- with his busy life of concerts and interviews, plans with his brother certainly weren't at the top of his list of "things to remember." Piero was just about to ask what the heck his brother was talking about when he heard a woman laugh in the background, jogging his memory.
"You know, breakfast?" Francesco reminded after the pause had exceeded ten seconds.
"Yeah, yeah, I remember. Isabella's... sister, right?" Piero tied the towel around his waist and walked out into his hotel room, taking his phone with him.
"Ah, so you did remember. And yes, it's Isabella's sister. We were originally gonna have you guys over to the apartment, but that was before we realized how far of a drive it was. I don't know about you, but I don't feel like driving 5 hours to Rome for breakfast," Francesco explained.
"No, no," Piero said, slipping on a pair of boxers, "that wouldn't be good."
"Where else could we do it?" Francesco asked.
Piero finished getting dressed and plopped down onto his bed, grabbing the TV remote. "I don't know," Piero replied. "We could just order food to one of our rooms..."
     "That works for me. What time?"
     Piero thought for a moment, finally replying, "I'll ask the other guys and see what they say. I'll shoot you a text, okay?"
     Francesco agreed and, 15 seconds later, they had both hung up. In vain, Piero flipped through different channels on TV, but couldn't find anything that suited his interest. He was too tired to care, and it wasn't until he had flipped through at least 50 channels that he realized he didn't even really want to watch TV. He hit the power button on the remote and, grabbing his phone, he shot a text to his band mates in the rooms beside him.

Piero, 11:04Pm: Come to my room for a sec. We need to figure out what we're gonna do with Isabella's little sister.

Piero sat back and waited for their replies, and as he sat in his silent room, he started to think about what tomorrow may bring. They were finally getting a day off, and though Piero loved children, he wasn't sure he wanted to spend the day with who he imagined would be a bratty little girl. Piero sent up a silent prayer that Isabella's sister wouldn't be as awful as he imagined, and just as he had muttered a quiet "amen", he heard someone knock on his door. He got up and walked over to the door and, twisting the handle, Ignazio walked into the room.

That's a wrap on Chapter Three! Hope you guys enjoyed it. I must say, the support on this book had been unreal. 34 reads and 27 comments on a book that's been up for less than two weeks? Unreal! You guys (or girls) are amazing! Anyway... what do you think about the Third-Person POV? I feel like it definitely gives you an insight on Piero's feelings. Oh, how wrong he is about Isabella's sister!